Fools Rush In
by Phox99
Summary: Alfred finds himself in London wishing that there was more than just friendship between him and Arthur, but aftre a magical mishap he may just get his wish. Part 2/4
1. Chapter 1:Enter the Fool

It was snowing in London.

For the past few weeks it had snowed, not every day but enough to cause the resident some minor irritation. In Alfred's eyes he saw it as a nice change of pace. He liked the snow more than the rain that seemed to hang over the city. Rain almost always brought to mind the smell of gun powder, blood soaked earth, and the other displeasing things that war entails. Though, he knew London, would not be the London he loved so much if it was not gray, and raining.

Alfred glanced up at the overcast sky as small white flakes drifted down to collect on his shoulders. Maybe it was not the city its self, but the people. He shifted the two large paper bags in his hands, standing in a crowd of sour looking Englishmen waiting for the light to change. Okay…it was not all of the people, or even some people of London. There was only one Englishmen he kept coming here for. Arthur Krikland.

The personified English nation was also the reason why he (the personified American nation) was standing at the London crosswalk with a week's worth of grochiers in his arms. He sighed; it had been like this scent the end of world war two. He and his former mentor were on better terms now, friends even. To the point where now a few days before world meeting Alfred would fly and stay with Arthur, if the meeting was in London, and the reveis would be true if the meeting was in D.C. Though this time around the meeting was in Pairs, and He had showed on Arthur's door step without calling…A whole week early. But who really likes traveling alone? Friendship, that's was all, there was nothing romantic going on between them. Despite the rumors flying around the conference room, or even Alfred's own feelings in the matter.

Yes, as much as the American nation hated to admit it he wished that was something more than just friendship between him and once caretaker.

The light change and with another sigh he followed the crowd of people across the street. He walked quickly, wanting to get out of the snow before it started to pick up, pausing only to readjust the bags in his arms. Alfred absently wondered why Arthur had sent him out in this whether, though when Arthur had asked him to 'nip down' to the store to get a few things he did not exactly argue. In fact he had bonded off the sofa like a dog invited on a walk. Making a few a comments about Arthur's old age, and how he was such an awesome hero that it would be very unheroic of him not too. It was also kind of his fault that Arthur was begging to run low on food. Alfred was the one how had flown in early without calling first.

But it was the way Arthur had seemed just before he had left; it was almost like the British man was trying to get him out of the house. Though to be honest, Alfred had not even come to this realization until he was about half way through the unusually long shopping list. Was there something going in Arthur's life that he did not want Alfred to know about? If that was the case, then what was it…?

"Hello, Sir is there anything I can help you with ?" an oddly un-British voice cut into to thoughts, in fact it sounded more like the voices of his own people.

"Um Sir, you okay?"

Alfred turned to the speaker to find that he had come to a stop in front of a flower stand with a young women bundled up against the chill with a blue apron over her winter wear. She was looking up at with her brow knitted above keen blue eyes, as if she concerned for Alfred's mental health.

He nodded slowly, "Yes, I think I'm fine…Why, do you ask?"

The girl flashed him a knowing smirk, "Well you've been standing there staring off into space now for about five minutes."

Alfred cringed, he had not even realized he had come to a stop, "Sorry, about that."

"It's no problem, so what kind of person are they like?" she asked smiling

"H-h-un…Wait what?" he spluttered nearly dropping the bags, and unable to stop the heat raising to his face. How could this person he had just met not five seconds ago know what he had been agonizing over?

"Well, the main reason people stand in the middle of busies walk ways, with pensive looks on their faces, is when they are thinking about someone they love." She said again there was something slightly all omnition in her eye, that made him feel like lying would be useless.

Love, yeah that was it, what he felt when it came to Arthur…

"So what are they like?" the Flower girl posed again.

Alfred did not respond right away, for many words popped into his head at the same time, all of which could be used described Arthur. Such words stodgy, uptight, and pretences were some the first, but they kind of meant the same thing. After another brief moment of sifting through words he sighed and smiled half heartedly, "British."

"Oh," a sad little giggle left her lips, "So it's kind of unrequited love isn't it?"

Alfred balked, nearly dropping his bags again in the processes, his cheeks now an even brighter bright shade of red. "W-what makes you say that?"

She shrugged smiled at him again, "Because I've seen that look on my own face to many times."

He watched her with a new scent of understanding, as she pushed pasted him walking along the stand examining the different bouquets as she continued to speak…

"You're friends right, and you've worked so hard just to be friends that you're afraid. Afraid, that if you say anything about how you truly feel the relationship you already have would shatter."

She picked out a bright predominately yellow bouquet from the stand, and turned to hand it to him. But when she saw his hands were already full she thought better of it and slipped it into one of the bags. "Here, they're on the house, from one lovesick American lost in London to another."

"So you are American! Awesome though I guessed it kind obvious that neither one us are from around here." Alfred exclaimed laughing, "So what part of the country is such an insightful young lady from?"

The flower girl smirked and thumped her chest proudly, "Why the best part Sir, the good old lone star state!"

"So you're a Texan?"

"Yep borne and breed!" She said wagging her finger at him.

"Ah," He smiled down at her, his blue eyes meeting with hers, "Well, thanks for the flowers, are you sure you don't want me to pay for them?"

She shook her head "Nope, I won't take a penny or a pound for that matter for them! They're too help you get the person you're pinning for. "

Alfred hummed, and flashed the girl a smirk "Alright, well thanks, hope you get your man to!"

She flushed, and bit her lip, "Yeah I'll work on that…"

"Oh come now, you're an American! American's like us can do anything we set our minds to! Right?"

The girl's face brighten, "Yeah, that's very true."

"Well, I should get going before it starts snowing harder."

"Have a nice day Sir! And good luck to you to." She said waving as Alfred began to walk away, with a slight spring in is step now.

***

Alfred kicked the door closed behind him, grateful to a have door in between him and the poor British weather. He shook the snow from his head and shoulders, stamping his boots on the mat before walking down the entry hall.

"Hey, Iggy!" He called as he poked his head into the living room in an overly cheery voice that would be sure grate only slightly on Arthur' s nerves, "Your totally awesome hero has returned victorious from the store!"

He waited for a moment for the annoyed Briton to appear and begin nagging his ear off about calling him by his old nickname, as he helped Alfred take the goriest to the kitchen. But there was no such action, nor was there any kind of reply. Stepping fully into the homely English living room, he found it to be quite devoid of anyone. In fact the whole house seemed eerily quite.

"Arthur?" He called again, moving from the living room to the kitchen. Hopeing to find the nation standing at stove with the kettle in his hand, or (he shivered at the thought) trying to cooking something eatable. Though upon pushing the door to Arthur's country style kitchen open, he found it just as empty as the living room. He set the groceries down the nearest counter top, and hummed nervously. He did not recall Arthur saying anything he needed to do today, but when he thought about it the English nation had all but thrown him out the house with the shopping list.

Somewhere in the back of Alfred's mind his panic center was going into over drive. What if Arthur had been kidnapped by those fairies he was always rambling on about, or Russians! What if Russia had kidnapped Arthur in attempt to get at him? Or and this thought hurt the most, what if Arthur was secretly seeing someone?

He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled, his blue eyes roaming around the room. His eyes falling on the bouquet of yellow and blue flowers sticking out one of the bags.

_Or maybe_, he thought, _I'm letting my paranoia get the best of me_… _again_.

Arthur's boss had probably just called him in at the last minute to go over the topics for the world meeting in two days. But there was no note, Arthur would always leave a note of some kind if that where the case. The American pondered for another moment, deciding it best to check upstairs before he got overly worried again.

Alfred made to leave the kitchen, reaching his hand out to push open the swinging door, but as he did a subtle tremor ran through the house. Causing some of picture hanging on the wall to shake, and the chain in the cabinet to clink slightly. The American Nation spun on his heel, facing the back door. He took one step tentative step towards the door, alarm bells going off in head.

The explosion that shook the house next scent him sprinting out the backdoor and into the garden. He knew where Arthur was now; kicking himself for not thinking of it sooner. It had been so long scent Arthur had performed any kind of magic spell in his cellar.

The snow crunched under his feet as he ran around to the side of England's house. The cellar it's self came into view, its old wooden doors blown open flapping uselessly in the wind a white smoke billowing in to winter air. A cruse tore from Alfred's lips at the sight, and cast aside all thoughts of personal safety as plunged into the smokey depths. He was a hero after all.

He nearly tripped down the straits in his haste, "Arthur!" he choked out upon reaching floor. The room was dark with dim flashing light somewhere in the room. The smoke was just beginning to clear out, but there was no clear sign of the British nation.

"Arthur!" he called out again his voice frantic.

There was a slight shifting a groaning from the shadows to his left. He dashed in that direction, and soon found a cloaked figure slumped against the wall. Alfred knelt in front the figure, he knew that cloak it was Arthur. He placed his hands on the man's shoulders, and gently shook him, "Arthur, come on Iggy, speak to me! Are you alright?"

Arthur's thick brows furrowed, before bright green eyes opened, and looked into the face of the conreied American man hovering over him, "A-Alfred?"

Relief washed over the American as he pulled smaller man against him in a hug, "Thank god!" he berthed. He felt the older nation tug almost franticly at his coat. Alfred held Arthur at arm length and met his green eyes with a confused look, "What's wrong?"

Arthur coughed, "Y-you …n-need to get out of here!"

"What! Why? Arthur what's going on?" Alfred snapped back.

"N-now's no time t-to argue, git." he pointed over Alfred's shoulder, "T-this is…this is not something that you can handle."

Alfred craned his neck in order to look behind, to what Arthur was pointing at. It was a softball size ball of light ricochet around the room. He watched it bounce with lighting speed from one wall to the ceiling, to the floor, where it redirected and came barreling at the two crouched nations. He pulled Arthur tight against his chest disregarding the shout of protest, bracing for impact.

The ball made contact with his lower back, and he bit his lip against the expected wave of pain. But the pain only lasted as long as the ensile impact, it soon faded into a warm numbing that spread through his whole body. He was vaguely aware of Arthur struggling out of grasp spouting a string of obstinacies, as he slumped slowly to one side. His eyelids felt strangely heavy, and there was a darkness that began to quickly engulf his mind. Alfred tried to hold on, tried to stay consciousness. But it was a vine effort.

His vision blurred, he was able to make out the fuzzy outline of Arthur leaning over him. Shaking him, "Alfred!—

_Well_, he though a small contented smile forming on his lips, as the darkness finally over took him, _At least you're safe… _

And really that's was all that mattered to him.

* * *

A/N:Thanks for reading! This part one of three. The next parts well have more chaicter enter action.


	2. Dealing with Fools

**AN**: Hey, Phox here! I would just like to thank everyone who either read reviewed or added this story to there alerts. I really apperciate it! And because of you guys I feel bad making you all, wait a long time for update, so I decided to make this four part story! This part is Arthur's reaction to the whole situation. So I hope you enjoy, and I'll get the rest writen soon!

Oh and Disclaimer: I own the plot that's all ^_^!

* * *

"Damn , stupid, bollock-brained…" Arthur muttered under his breath.

"Foolish, overly heroic, git!" He exclaimed as he dragged the unconscious American through his kitchen door. Arthur huffed as he paused to catch his breath, he was walking backwards with his arms wrapped under Alfred's arm pits, and over his broad chest. With another British heave, he tugged his former charge through the kitchen. Why, did Alfred have to be so 'heroic', and heavy?

Arthur flushed, for he knew it wasn't fat that he was being forced to drag into his living room, but solid muscle. Honestly, when had Alfred become so, so…so well defined? He shook his head violently, in order to rid himself of such ungentlemanly thoughts. Though it was rather hard to ignore the warmth that seemed to creep its way across his face, NO! This was Alfred for Christ sakes! His former colony, his once little brother, his… his…just what was Alfred to him now? A friend right, an allie ? Or did he want them to be something more…?

With one last effort he managed to rather unceremoniously dump the American nation on his sofa. The sleeping man's form was too big for it though and his legs dangled over the arm. Sighing, the English nation flopped into his favorite arm chair, running a hand through his short sandy locks.

"Why did you grow up so fast?" He asked the sleeping nation, knowing full well the answer to his own question.

He eyed Alfred as if looking for any signs of what was once his little colony in the man's face. But what he saw was the face of nation, the face of a man who had left him kneeling in the rain. Arthur sighed dejectedly, and tugged at the bow that kept his greenish black cloak about his shoulders, he was becoming that nostalgic old man.

"Bloody Hell." Arthur had more important things to worry about than the past. Like what would happen when Alfred finally came to. Gathering the cloak in his arms he stood, casting one last fleeting glace at the American's contented face as he left the room.

That spell had been a very complex and delicate renewal ritual; meant to well renew the magical energy in the country, and was one of those spells that needed to be performed once or twice every hundred yeas or so. It was also why he had sent Alfred shopping in the first place! Arthur did not want the American around when he was casting magic of any kind! First off the over grown child of a man, always found some way to break his concentration! And secondly; Alfred would use it as more ammo to tease him with!

Arthur grumbled as he opened the door to hall closet and hung his cloak on its hook. Just the very thought of what Alfred would say with ridiculously attractively grin on his face was enough to make Arthur flustered. His grip on the door tightened as he shut it rather harshly, storming back into the living room. Though in all fairness, he had managed to royally cock up his spell without Alfred being precent… But it's not like he had needed the git to rush in a save him! He would have been just fine, his cloak would have protected him from any back lash from the misguided spell…Though Alfred was more or less likely unaware of that…

He heaved another drawn out sigh and pushed his hand through his hair again; he needed tea. Something warm to drink would prepare him for whatever was to happen when Alfred woke up.

He glanced at the clock on the mantle, it was almost tea time anyways. With one last fleeting look at the nation passed out on his sofa he made his way into the kitchen. Only to be met with a rather odd sound. A soft bell like laughter from a gentle tiny voice, stepping fully into the room he saw a delicate ball of glittering pink light hovering around the cabinets

"Peaseblossom?" Arthur questioned.

The pink light giggled again, and came to float above the English nation's head, to where Arthur could make out the lithe body and rapidly fluttering wings of a fairy.

Peaseblossom put her hands to lips in a poor attempt to stifle her mirth, "Hello Arthur yes!"

A small resigned smile formed on his lips as he reached out to cup the glittering fey in his hands, "And hello to you to Peaseblossom, what's brings you here today?"

The fairy settled in his upturned palm, and beamed up at him, "I heard Arthur's home go boom, yes! I wanted to see kind of fun Arthur was having, yes, but I got sidetracked yes yes!!"

"I see." Arthur said quirking a rather thick eyebrow and nodding slowly, had the spell gone off that poorly? "What did you get sidetracked by, dear?"

The fairy snickered pointing to the counter top "Flowers, flowers, yes! Someone loves Arthur yes, yes!"

"What are you—

The words died on Arthur's lips as he followed the line of Peaseblossom's jester to the counter top where Alfred had abandoned the shopping in his haste. He could feel his eyes widen and the blush rise to his cheeks when he noticed the bright yellow bouquet sticking out of one of the bags. He stared at the flowers with something akin to slack jawed wonder, were those for him?

"Arthur's red, yes! Like a cherry, yes yes!" Peaseblossom said floating out of his hand.

The fairy's voice made the country snap out of his stupor, "Peaseblossom…"

"Yes, yes?"

"Alfred's taking a nap in the next room; will you keep an eye on him and let me know if he wakes up, please poppet?" Arthur spoke steadily trying to keep his composer.

The fairy hovered right at leave looking at sternly (or as sternly as glittering thing could look at someone) before laughing her bell like laugh and zooming around the room, "Of course, yes! Peaseblossom will look after Arthur's hero, yes, yes!"

The hyperactive fairy zipped out of the room, as Arthur's face flared up to the tips of his ears.

"That overgrown wanker is not, my bloody hero!!" He denied fervently, only to be met by a disbelieving chuckle and the sound of the door swinging open and then close. Arthur waited for an instant before crossing the distant left between him and the counter, his hand shaking slightly as he took the bouquet out of the shopping bag.

He held them gingerly as if they would dissipate into thin air, but no, the bright yellow and blue flowers were real. He couldn't help but press them to him face and breathe deeply. The smell brought to mind the feeling of spring, of sunshine on the hill side, and endless blue skies…

"Christ, what I am becoming some bloody love sick school girl?" he hissed aloud cradling the bouquet in the crook of him arm as buried his face in his palm. "They're just flowers…"

Flowers that had very specific meanings, despite himself he began ticking off the names and meanings in his head:

_Yellow Tulips, hopeless love._

_Yellow Roses, friendship and true love. _

_Yellow violets, love of country._

_Blue violets, watchfulness faithfulness._

_White lilac ,devotion…._

The flustered English nation could feel his face heating up all over again. Just what was Alfred trying to tell him with these! That he was hopelessly and truly in love with him and his country. Which made some scent, he was nation after all. But by the same token, Alfred could be trying to say that he wanted to be a faithful and devoted friend.

_Wait this Alfred I'm talking about_, he reasoned , _he couldn't have the faintest idea what these flowers mean!_

Yes, a much more rational reason would be that Alfred had picked them up to just brighten up the house, or as a peace offering. Arthur had been rather short with the American for the past few days, but that same American had been the one to show up on his door step with so much as a blasted phone call. Though, all Alfred had to do was just look at him with those big sparkling blue eyes that seemed to make the sky envious with their color, and say with that idiotic pout on his lips…

"Come on Iggy, please it will be awesome!"

Blast that kicked puppy look, and just like that Arthur found himself opening his home to the nation. With a groan he laid the bouquet gently on the counter, he would put them in a vase once he put away the shopping.

He pulled one of the paper bags closer to him and stuck his hand in, trying not to think about the bouquet, and pulled out a tin. A tea tin to be more prescience , early gray, not the brand he usually drank in the morning, but it would do until he could nip down to the store to get the proper brand. Arthur set the box on the cabinet reaching into the bag again and pulled out, another box of tea. He paused and stared at the box, the brand was one he never even heard of…

"Bloody, hell?" he reached into the bag only to pull out two more boxes of tea.

Four, four boxes of tea, all of them early gray, none of them happen to be the kind he drank every day. A small unbidden smirk sprang to his lips, he remembered writing tea on the list, but not the brand, and Arthur was known to be picky about his tea. He had ,a brief mental image of Alfred standing in the tea aisle agonizing over what brand he would prefer. He chuckled fondly, the look on the self proclaimed hero's face must have been priceless! His chuckle soon turned into a rolling laughter, bracing himself against the counter.

Arthur breathed, wiping at the tears that formed at the corner of his eyes and run his hand through his hair. Then he glanced at the tea and flowers on the counter, his smile softening for just a moment. Alfred could be thoughtful at times…

_Damn…just how love sick am I? _


End file.
